Wastelander
by brassmonki
Summary: After Third Impact the world is reduced to an arid wasteland. Few people came back from the orange seas, and even fewer survived the desolation. This is the story of one boy struggling to defend what's most important to him in the future's waste land.


**I don't want to set the world on fire**

It was morning in the days after the end of the world.

The landscape of Japan has been forever changed by the events of Third Impact. The sky is still burned red with angel blood, and a new crimson ring circles the earth, frozen life force gently falling into the atmosphere as time goes on. One day it will be gone, but now, especially in the morning, it casts a red glow across the globe.

The blast of humanity's combined AT field release decimated the land, leaving it blackened and barren. Here and there, a few forlorn clusters of trees survive, but mostly there is grey-brown arid sand, where grass and rice once grew.

There are few clouds. The orange seas of those who did not come back have thrown the worlds climate completely off. The orange goo of those not reborn prevents water from evapourating. Rain clouds are now very rare, leaving most of the land parched and thirsty. And since there are no clouds, during the day, the unguarded lands burn, and at night, the uncovered ground freezes.

Through this desolation, a lone figure runs, scampering across the dune like rises in the ground kicking up the dust as he runs. He is completely covered by a dull beige hooded-cloak, serving to keep him warm after the nights chill, and to protect him from the heavy sunlight of midday. His face is masked against the dusty winds that constantly blow.

He carries a long bolt action rifle, with scraps of cloth wrapped around it to act as a rudimentary hand guard. He holds it like a soldier, always pointing it in the direction he's looking.

He glances from side to side in a panicked fashion, trying to find something in the wasteland. Seeing nothing he skidded down the slope of a small ditch into a low crouch, and cocked his head as if trying to listen.

And then it leaped at him.

A scarred and bloody, black rabid dog hurtled towards his unprotected back, it's jaws foaming with rage and it's eyes crazed in desperation.

The boy spins around quickly, the stock of his rifle slamming into the dog's chest, making it yip in pain. The dog crashed to the ground, but quickly jumped to it's feet and ran off into the distance.

The boy stood quickly and brought his rifle to bear, firing a single round at the retreating animal. His shot goes wide, impacting the dirt next to the fleeing creature.

Quickly he fumbles another round into the chamber, but when he raises his rifle again, the dog was already out of sight, a small dust cloud charging across the wastes it's only mark of existence.

The boy sighed, putting the safety catch on his rifle, and slinging it over his shoulder. That dog could have fed them both for a week.

He took a water canteen from the recess of his cloak and, removing his mask, drank a little, spitting out the dust that had caught in his mouth from running despite the masks protection. He put it away carefully after examining the contents. Enough for the rest of the day at least, he thought to himself.

He scanned around the horizon, and found the clump of trees he was heading for.

After putting his mask back on he absently reached around his neck and put in some earphones that were attached to the SDAT player hidden in his clothes. He trudged off to the trees, confident that the sound of his shot would scare off any other scavengers in the arid plains.

The tinny sound of the portable music player was accompained by the wind whistling around the wanderer. The beige cloak flaps a bit in the bitter breeze, until he is lost amongst the broken landscape.

* * *

Gingerly he enters the cluster of trees, rifle at the ready.

These places often attracted the few plant eaters that were left, and that in turn attracted the surprisingly well fed predators that hunted them. It paid to be cautious in this suddenly hostile world, and the boy had learned that the hard way, several times, and often with scars to prove it.

Amongst the trees there were a number of smaller plants, and even some blades of grass, all competing for the precious ground water that was close to the surface here. The trees bound the moist soil together, protecting the smaller greenery from the harsh drying winds that blew outside the little circle of life.

He looks around the ground, and then up in the branches, another lesson learned from a sudden encounter with a starving young panther that he assumed had escaped from a zoo. The emaciated big cat had jumped down behind him, but was far too weak from hunger to attack him. It collapsed to the ground and promptly died, leaving the boy terrified and with moistened trousers.

But that was just a few months after the world ended. He was stronger now, more used to the new world. Unfortunately so were the other predators.

Satisfied there were no nasty surprises, he moved to the centre of the little thicket, and knelt down amongst what looked to the untrained eye to be weeds. He put the rifle on the ground, and dug with his hands into the cool earth around the plants.

He brought out some small dirty brown knobbly balls, all attached to each other by roots. He smiled under his mask. His potatoes were doing well. Given another week or two and they would be ready for harvest. He placed them back under ground carefully, trying not to break the delicate root system.

He moved to his next crop, a small cluster of bean vines twisting up a rusty metal sign post he had placed there. After examining them, he cut a good deal of them from the vine, putting them into a little brown bag that appeared from under his cloak.

He moved over to his wild strawberry patch, and sighed when he saw the little red luxuries had already been pilfered by some other creature. He had been looking forward to them, but not nearly as much as she had. He really didn't want to have to tell her about this, but he guessed it was unavoidable.

He stood, checking his rather small harvest. It would be enough for today, and he would go to one of his other small gardens tomorrow. They were dotted around the wasteland, hidden amongst the tree clusters, all with varying crops. He made sure there were at least two places that had each kind of fruit or vegetable. It was smart, or at least he told himself it was. If one of his secret farms was destroyed by wildlife or bad weather, at least he could re-plant them with seeds from the other gardens.

And it gave him something to do, which was probably more valuable than anything in this desolate world.

Then he heard a strange squawking sound and the rustle of leaves.

His rifle was in his hands in a flash, and he immediately took cover next to a tree trunk. The squawking went on but did not appear to be moving, even though the rustling was still very agitated.

He moved the the outer ring of vegetation his rifle at the ready. Here he had set a few snares and traps to catch would-be crop thieves, and provide a little tasty meat treat. The vegetables and fruit was excellent bait, and he usually caught at least one small creature every two days.

He moved closer to the rustling sound, and saw that he had indeed caught something.

A little black and white penguin with a shock of red feathers like hair on it's head, had caught it's little foot in a snare, and was viciously pecking at the wire.

The boy moved closer to the frenzied bird, and knelt down next to it.

"I know you..." he said.

The little water fowl froze, as if it too recognised the boy's voice. He reached down, and found a little metal plaque secured around the birds neck.

"PenPen..."

The bird blinked at him.

"Hmm. It's been a while. Are you the one stealing my strawberries?"

It squawked forlornly at him, recognition and memory battling with it's avian survival instinct.

The boy pulled the hood of his head, uncovering a wiry mess of light brown hair. He took off his mask, and the little bird could see the boy was wearing round glasses.

The boy's face was still youthful, but around his mouth and under his chin was the suggestion of budding facial hair.

It was Kensuke. Older than the high school geek the bird held in it's small memory, but definitely him. There were still some freckles left, but they were mostly gone now, maturity and hardship blasting them from his face.

Kensuke watched the little bird for a while. It had stopped struggling, perhaps it's mind struggling to keep up with the new developments.

Thoughtfully, the boy took a knife from his booted foot, and stared at the little bird. The girl back home would be upset if he killed PenPen for his meat. But then again, all they had for tonight was some beans, and maybe some tinned meat, that was probably cat food.

In this world it really was survival of the fittest, and sometimes hard decisions had to be made. Practicality at war with sentimentality. He had read a dozen mangas with that very theme, and each had their own answer. Back in the comfort of a modern and civilised Japan he had screamed his support for sentimentality at the unhearing pictures every time. Now it was his turn to make the decision, he was not so sure.

He sighed.

If there was one ting he had learnt over the years since Third Impact, it was that survival came first. He had to keep the things important to him alive. That meant making sacrifices. And he had to act fast. The midday sun would start up the daily dust storm, high winds and hot sand scouring the landscape.

The knife blade came down.

She would understand.

* * *

In the wasteland of the aftermath of Third Impact, there stood a lonely hill, cut off from it's mountainous brethren by a sea of arid planes that had once been thick forest. It is a rocky island sparsely covered with thorny and unfriendly vegetation that was otherwise completely featureless, apart from the little iron door at it's base.

The hill had at one time been a bunker, made by some crackpot who thought he could protect himself from the Angels by hiding underground. It was stocked with preserved foods, some fabrics for clothing, and a few other items of survival equipment. But the best thing about this place was the little well at the centre of the hill, which provided it's new inhabitants with fresh, safe water.

In this bunker of a madman, a teenage girl slowly blossoming into womanhood carefully sewed herself a new set of undergarments.

It was tricky work, with the wiring providing the hardest challenge, and more than once she had given up in frustration, throwing the tangled mess of wire and cloth against the wall. But each time she grumbled at herself, picked up the bundle of fabric and kept working. This was the only time she could do it anyway, with Kensuke out doing his rounds.

And he was late today, she thought glancing at the bunkers clock. She was going to give him an earfull when he got back.

She had long brown hair, tied into two neat braids behind her head, keeping her hair sensibly out of the way, and yet still defiantly feminine against the demanding wasteland. Like Kensuke, she still carried the faint suggestion of freckles, but they were giving way to a womanly radiance that would become a rarity in the new world.

She sighed, wondering if tomorrow would be a good day to go scavengeing around the ruined town in the mountains. If she was lucky, maybe there would be a clothes shop left unlooted, which would save her the hassle of making this-

She suddenly heard a banging sound on the slightly rusting steel door of the bunker. She waited for a few heartbeats, checking the rythym of the hammering, and once satisfied, she hurriedly hid her efforts into a small box, and rushed over to the door to let Kensuke in.

Spinning the doors circular wheel lock, she pushed on the heavy metal portal, Kensuke pulling the door with one hand, slowly letting it open up.

A blast of hot dust broke into the cool bunker, and Kensuke scrambled around the door. The harsh wind was now an abrasive wail of sand, and a orange shaft of blistering light lanced into the relatively dark bunker. Kensuke was now around the door, pulling it shut behind him. It closed with a clang, and he quickly span the lock tight, plunging the little bunker into silence once again.

They both stood panting against the door, catching their breath. Once they both calmed down, she spun angrily towards him, and thumped him hard on the arm, "You're cutting it fine today!"

Kensuke rubbed his arm, and pulled his hood down, "Sorry, I got held up but two animals."

She glared at him, her eyes two little brown orbs of worried rage, "You should know better than to stay out during the middle of the day. What if you got sunstroke out there, huh? I can't carry you back in that heat!"

Kensuke nodded, taking off his mask, "I know, I know. I'd die out there, then you'd die looking for me, and then there'd be no humans left in the world," he said, as if repeating an often heard sermon.

She poked him in the chest, "And don't you forget that, Aida. Until we find some other people you have the responsibilty of survival."

Kensuke smiled, "I know. I'm sorry I made you worried, Class rep."

Hikari's face softened, "Seriously Kensuke, it's just us here. I'd go insane if I was on my own." She sighed, "Anyway, you said two animals? Do we have some meat for tonight? Apart from the cat food I mean..."

Kensuke rubbed the back of his head, dust shedding to the floor, "Yeah, um, about that responsibility of survival stuff..."

Hikari cocked her head to the side, "What? What happened?"

Kensuke gave her a serious expression, "Class rep, I'm really sorry." He reached under his cloak and brought out a small black and white unmoving mound.

Hikari looked closer and saw that it was a penguin. "Is that...?" The little birds head suddenly snapped around, blinking at her in recognition, making her squeal in delight, "Oh my God, it's PenPen!"

"Yeah," Kensuke said grinning, as she bundled the unresisting waterfowl into a fierce hug, "Sorry but it looks like we have an extra mouth to feed."

She smiled at him, now bright and joyful, "Don't be silly! Ms. Katsuragi would kill us if we didn't look after him!"

"Even from beyond the grave?" Kensuke asked incredulously.

"Especially from beyond the grave. You know she called every night before Third Impact just to make sure he was okay? Oh look at you," she said to PenPen, "You're all dusty and thin. Let's wash you up in the kitchen, ok?" she said taking PenPen deeper into the bunker.

Kensuke started to follow her, but without looking back she said, "I hope you're not thinking of bringing all that dusty gear into our home are you?"

He looked at her retreating back sheepishly, mumbling, "Of course not," under his breath, and went into a little alcove with some hooks on the wall to strip off his equipment.

* * *

Kensuke scrubbed the sand and dirt from his hair and skin whilst Hikari washed and pampered her knew pet penguin. After Kensuke had gotten rid of the dust on his body he spent a few glorious hours cleaning and maintaining his equipment, again with Hikari making a little cot for PenPen to sleep in, and trying to decide on the best way to give him access to the refrigerator,the same way Misato did back before the world collapsed.

They didn't speak to each other much during this time, mostly sharing smiles whenever they looked in each others direction. They were both busy with their own work, and both knew that everything the other did was to make their lives easier. And they had been living like this for so long, they rarely needed to ask what each other were doing. Conversation was best saved for when there was no work to do. It was better that way. Keeping busy, and speaking when they had nothing left to do was the best way to fight the bitter memories.

Kensuke was happily oiling his gun when Hikari suddenly called out to him, saying dinner was ready, and he should get his butt out here before she ate everything. Kensuke fumbled his gun away, knowing it was no idle threat. Hikari had quite an appetite on her.

They ate quietly and quickly, both starved from their meagre rations. They sat on opposite sides of the kitchen's small table, with PenPen napping on Hikari's lap. She had just recently been in the bath, and her hair was loose and straight, not in it's usual braids. The bath was just one of the luxuries the bunker afforded them, and was heated from some unknown hot spring somewhere in the wastes.

Kensuke's beans formed the bulk of the meal, supported by some of the rice they had found in the bunker. The rice had been treated in some cunning fashion, leaving it good to eat, but tasting a little woody.

To Kensuke, Hikari's cooking was the best he'd ever eaten, even before Third Impact. He and his Dad were both terrible cooks, and his greatest culinary achievement had been a fried egg on instant noodles. To this day he was proud of that, and was saddened by the fact that there would probably be no more instant noodles, or eggs for that mater.

He leaned back in his chair when he finished eating, totally satisfied. "Wow Class Rep," he burped happily, "How can you make the garbage I grow taste so good?"

The teenage girl dabbed the corners of her mouth in a lady like fashion with a patchwork napkin, "It's not that hard. The food you grow is usually pretty good. And, you know, there's always soy sauce," she said, tapping the brown bottle between them on the table.

"It's not just that though... today was particularly good. C'mon, tell me, what was in it?" Kensuke asked.

She looked at him hard for a few seconds, "That's... well..." she beckoned him to come closer.

Kensuke leaned in, "What?"

She leaned towards him conspiratorially, glancing from side to side, as if there could possibly be anyone else to hear them.

She whispered in his ear, "My secret."

Kensuke gave her what could only be described as, 'a look'. Hikari just grinned at him, taking PenPen off her lap, "But what can we give this little guy? He's not going to be able to eat the beans is he?"

"Why not try some of the catfood? One of them has got to be fish."

Hikari shrugged, "Worth a try," and went to find one of the cans in the storeroom. Kensuke took the SDAT player out of his pocket, and put it on the table, intending to listen to it later, staring at the little bird as it waddled around the kitchen. This was okay. If they ever needed to, they could eat him later. It would be sad, and they might hate themselves for a while, but they had done worse things to survive out here. It would work out.

He frowned, "Hey what have you been eating anyway? Last time I checked there were no sand-fish here."

Hkari came back with an open tin, "Here you go. As the detective said, this smells fishy." She put the tin down in front of the bird, who sniffed it carefully, then tore into the processed meat with wild abandon.

Kensuke knelt down by the bird, watching in fascination as he devoured the contents of the can, "I think he likes it."

The main lights suddenly went out, leaving the room only in the warm yellow glow of the wall lamps. Kensuke closed his eyes, and sighed, "Class Rep?"

He turned around, and saw Hikari plugging the SDAT player into a wall socket. She pressed play, and the little kitchen was suddenly filled with gentle soothing 1940s music, another gift from the crazy man who built the bunker. The bunkers solar generators couldn't handle running all the circuits at once. To operate the speakers, the main light system had to come off.

"Come here, Kensuke," Hikari said, holding out her hand.

Kensuke knew better than to resist, and stood up, taking her hand, and drawing her close. Their feet began to make the same practised movements in rhythm with the music, and they were slowly dancing around the kitchen floor.

It was just one of those tings that kept them both sane in the emptiness of the new world. Hikari liked to dance, and Kensuke had found it fairly relaxing too. Well, after the initial awkwardness. They only did it once a week or so, Hikari knowing how much it embarrassed Kensuke. But when she got the urge to dance, Kensuke, even with his rifle, was not strong enough to deny her.

Kensuke marvelled at the feel of the girl in his arms. So warm, but not the rough heat of the wasteland. A soft, inviting warmness. He liked to think of it as her inner tenderness radiating out from her body in defiance of the tough tom-boy act she put on all those years ago back in high school.

She leaned her head on his chest, and Kensuke could smell a delicious sweet scent, gentling curling out from her hair. "Did you use some shampoo today?"

Hikari nodded, releasing more of the sweet smell, "I know it's running low. But my hair was itching like crazy. And besides, it's so wonderfully smooth now. Feel it, and see for yourself."

Kensuke raised his hand, and gently stroked her hair, "Wow, you're right," he choked awkwardly.

Hikari shyly raised her hand as they twirled around the still eating penguin, gingerly feeling Kensuke's chest. "You're all muscly here now. Remember back in school when you were all gangly and thin? It's all hard now."

Kensuke nodded, "Guess it comes from working outside every day."

"Mmm," Hikari agreed, letting her hand drop back to his waste, and closing her eyes on his chest.

They twirled slowly in the soft light, the gentle pre-war music setting an almost sleepy mood.

Kensuke sighed, "I'm sorry about the strawberries."

"It's okay," she said quietly.

"I know you were really looking forward to them. I should have put more traps around them or something."

"Really Kensuke, it's okay," she said, not opening her eyes, and enjoying the motion of their dance.

They slowly spun for a few moments before she spoke again, "They remind me of home."

"Yeah?"

"Back home, my sisters and I would share a big bowl of strawberries every time we watched a movie or did something together. We'd dust them with a little powdered sugar, and have some cream for dipping. Dad used to say, that no matter how big a fight we had, if he brought in some strawberries everyone was friends again in seconds."

"Oh wow. I'm really sorry then-" Kensuke said a little panicked.

"No it's ok," Hikari said reassuringly. "You brought home PenPen today. That's way more of the old days than any amount of strawberries." She gave him a friendly squeeze, "Thanks for that Kensuke."

Kensuke fought off the coming blush, "Heh, it was nothing. But I'll let you in on a secret, Class Rep. I was planning on eating him," he said with a smirk.

"Kensuke, we've been living together for years. It's probably okay to call me Hikari now."

Kensuke looked down at the beautiful brown eyed girl in his arms. "Hikari it is then," he said softly.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, lifting her head off his chest, "That's better."

The music stopped, and they suddenly both realised just how close their faces were. They jumped apart, turning away from each other to hide their blushing faces.

"Er... it's cool enough outside. I'll go check the solar panels, or something," Kensuke mumbled, walking out of the kitchen.

"Good idea," Hikari mumbled, only turning around when she was sure he had left the room. She looked down to see PenPen, bits of cat food around his beak watching her with great interest.

She knelt down and picked him up, frowning beacuase of her red face, "What are you staring at?"

* * *

Kensuke sat down heavily next to the solar panels on the top of the hill over the bunker. He breathed heavily trying, to clear the smell of Hikari's shampoo from his nostrils, the sharp, rapidly cooling night air helping him come back from whatever cloud his crazed consciousness was happily frolicking in.

He shook himself. During their time together, Hikari had told him on more than one occasion about her crush on Touji. And although the big meat head had never openly admitted it to him, Kensuke could tell he was genuinely touched by Hikari's hospital visits after his big accident.

After Third Impact and the chaos that occurred in it's wake, Kensuke had made a vow to himself to keep Hikari safe in his friends place, until they could be reunited. It was a naive promise, he knew, since they had only encountered a handful of other people since the world went to hell, and none of them friendly, but he was determined to hold on to it all the same. He would make sure they would be together again.

And that promise meant not... doing whatever might have happened back there if the music hadn't stopped.

He sighed and looked up in the sky. The scarlet band of Angel blood crossed the sky, cutting it in two, the lasting legacy of the final Angle battle. But beyond them, the stars were brilliantly lit in the total absence of humanities own lamps of civilisation.

Hikari liked to dance. And since Kensuke was the only other person around, she had limited choice in people to dance with. The first time they had danced together was in the little shack that was their first shelter. That was when they first found the SDAT player, after fleeing from the raging inferno that was Yokohama, the place they had evacuated to from the Angle attacks, and also Kensuke's hometown.

Tired, hungry and terrified, they had awkwardly danced together in candlelight, listening to the music playing from a set of barely working speakers hooked up to a car battery. It had been embarrassing, but the close contact after being so suddenly cut off from their families had let them keep their sanity. If he closed his eyes he could still hear the cello music. He had lost the tape with that music to the wasteland long ago, though.

To this day Kensuke was still unclear about how exactly things happened, his memories clouded by fear pain and a desperate need to survive. They had walked south, finally finding this bunker. He wasn't quite sure where they were, but he guessed it was somewhere near Hakonne.

He sighed again. Glancing at the solar panels he saw that they were ok. He went back inside, before the night air froze him to death.

Touji and Hikari. It made sense to Kensuke. Made sense to a lot of people. Well, at least those that knew Touji. And Hikari for that matter. He felt that he and Touji had somehow swapped lives somewhere along the way. Touji had been an Eva pilot, which was Kensuke's dream, and now Kensuke was living with Hikari, which was probably Touji's one desire.

Kensuke sighed, opening the bunker door. Hikari was one girl in a million, and he could understand if Touji ever said no other would do.

The door clanged behind him, and he locked it. He would put them back together again. Somehow. Kensuke had never felt strong feelings towards anyone, but he could imagine what the separation was doing to Hikari and his friend. That was what let him cross the desert everyday. What pushed him to do everything necessary.

To him, feelings like that had to be preserved at all costs. Sacrifices had to be made to keep sentimentality alive. That man had taught him that through a very harsh lesson, and he'll never forget it. The nightmares made sure of that.

Inside the bunker a faster paced piece of music was playing, and he saw Hikari through the kitchen door dancing wildly with PenPen, the little bird on the kitchen table, squawking happily to the movements and the girls laughter. She held him up by his wings and occasionally spun the little bird around to his delight.

Kensuke leaned on the door frame, watching the beautiful girl spin, her wonderful brown hair spinning around in he soft glow of the wall lamps. Her brown eyes were radiant with happiness, despite all the hardship they had faced. Her simple clothes fluttered around her, glittering far more on her than any sequined dress on a model could.

Her laughter mingled with the happy tones of the decades old music from before World War 2, and Kensuke couldn't help but smile. Hikari noticed him staring, and despite the awkwardness from before, held out her hand to him again, beaming joyfully. Kensuke knew better than to resist.

In this post Third Impact world, even on the edge of extinction, maybe things weren't so bad.

**A radio crackles:**

Gooooooood morning wasteland! Brassmonki here to give you the ins-and-outs of his new fanfiction. Depending on review response, I might just keep this a one shot. It's a nice little self-contained story in one chapter, and although I've planned out a nifty plot, it does deviate somewhat from the feeling I want to capture in this chapter. Some of you may have picked up on the Fallout references... well, let's be honest, I wasn't very subtle. I love the setting of Fallout, and post Third Impact world can lend itself well to that kind of story. I chose Kensuke for the main character, because the poor kid never gets any love, and Hikari for the female lead because, well, old Brass has a thing for brown eyed girls.

Ok wastelanders, Brassmonki signing off for now. Let's spin the record for another golden oldie... and remember don't feed the Radscorpions. They'll just come back for more!


End file.
